


Beautiful Mine

by BelleRevolution



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Grantaire, Depression, Doctor Combeferre, Doctor Joly, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Multi, Politician Enjolras, Psychiatrist Jehan, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:51:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelleRevolution/pseuds/BelleRevolution
Summary: Courfeyrac and Combeferre have been married for three years when Combeferre comes home early from the hospital one day to find Courfeyrac standing over the sink, blood dripping down his arm.





	1. Silver Stained Red

**Author's Note:**

> This work is graphic, please do see the tags for the warnings - everything is tagged. I understand that everyone experiences mental illness in different ways and my intent is only to tell a story that is both entertaining and respectful. I did do research, but if I missed something please let me know. Enjoy :)

Courfeyrac heard the door open, he heard his husband’s footsteps on the wooden floor of the entryway, and he heard Combeferre call out, “Courf, I’m home!” in that cliche way that made Courfeyrac’s heart melt. He still couldn’t believe that he was married to the man he had been in love with for . . . well, forever. Today, however, Courfeyrac felt his heart stop. Frantic, he turned the tap on and thrust his arm under the stream of water. The stainless steel sink was dotted with drops of red. 

“Courfeyrac?” Ferre’s voice echoed from the entryway. Usually Courf was waiting for him, and on the rare occasion that he did come home early, Courfeyrac would come running to embrace his husband. “I’m in the kitchen Ferre, just, uh, washing dishes!” Courfeyrac called back. He felt the vibrations of Ferre’s steps in the living room, and heard him step onto the tile of the kitchen. 

“Why are you doing that, Courf? We do own a dishwasher.” Combeferre chuckled, wrapping an arm around Courf’s waist and planting a kiss on his cheek, not looking into the sink. “Turn that off, come for a walk. It’s still light out.” Courfeyrac hesitated a fraction of a second to long - long enough for Combeferre to reach to turn off the sink himself and look down to see the blood. “Courfeyrac! Did you cut yourself cooking again . . .” Ferre trailed off, his eyes wandering up Courfeyrac’s arm, which was lined with angry red cuts. Courfeyrac went pale. 

“I- I can explain.” He said, emotion cracking at his voice. “Ferre please . . . don’t look at me like that . . .” Courfeyrac searched his husband’s face and found a range of emotions; concern, love, pain, and something close to panic. Without saying anything, Combeferre took the blade from Courfeyrac's right hand and set in on the counter, then he took his husband’s uninjured wrist and pulled him into the bathroom. 

They both sat silently while Combeferre cleaned and bandaged Courfeyrac’s arm, Ferre’s treatment gentle, his expression anything but. “Please, say something.” Courfeyrac asked when the other man was done, tears welling in his eyes. 

Combeferre slouched over to prop his head up on his left arm. He sighed. “Hell, I don’t know Courf. I thought this stopped a long time ago. I’m so worried about you.” 

“I did stop.” 

“That's not what it looks like!” 

“I did! For a long time.” 

“When did you start again? When we moved? When Enjolras and Grantaire got serious? When you got promoted? Courf you have to tell me whats going on!” 

“. . . three days ago.” Courfeyrac hung his head in shame. 

“Why?” 

“I stopped taking my meds.” 

“Courfeyrac!” 

“They made it hard to sleep.” 

“Is this a recent development?” 

“Yes.” 

“Courf you’ve been on those meds for years.” 

“. . . I asked Jehan to switch them.” 

“Courfeyrac, did you lie to Jehan to get them to change your meds?” Courfeyrac curled up in a ball on the counter where he was sitting. 

“Yes.”

“Why?” Combeferre wanted nothing more than to take his husband and cuddle with him for the next three days, but that wasn’t an option. 

“Because I thought it might help . . .” 

“With?” 

“I dunno. I just figured I’d been taking them for years and they had come up with better stuff so maybe I should try that.” 

“Courfeyrac what you were taking was working fine, wasn’t it?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Ferre sighed and took his husbands hands into his own. “Look at me Courf, please?” The other man slowly looked up. “You are my world, Courfeyrac, my sun. I love you more than anything - but this stops today. Do you feel up to going to see Jehan and then Joly?” 

“Why can’t you just take care of me?” 

“Answer the question Courf.” 

“Not really.” 

“Alright. I’m going to call them and ask them both to drop by. You will get better Courf. I promise.” Combeferre stood and scooped Courfeyrac into his arms, carrying him into the bedroom. "You should get some sleep, you look exhausted."

"Stay with me?"

"I'll be right back, as soon as I call the other doctors, okay?" 

"Yeah alright. Hurry up?"

"I will." Combeferre planted a kiss on Courf's forehead. "I'll be right back, I promise." 


	2. Faithful Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here is chapter two! I have the next couple chapters planned out, but after that, I don't know. I do plan to do a chapter a day til this is done though! I'd also love to hear from you guys - your feedback means a lot to me!

Combeferre was right, he was back within ten minutes. He laid down besides Courfeyrac, who rolled over to look at him.

“What’d they say?” He asked, shame coloring his voice.

“Jehan said they’d be here within the hour, and Joly’s last patient is at five thirty, so he should be here around six.”

“I meant about the . . . you know.”

“They didn’t say anything. Courf, they aren’t going to judge you, I promise. They’re our friends. They care, and they want to help.” Combeferre reached an arm out to wrap around his husband’s waist. “I want to help.”

“I know.” Courfeyrac rolled onto his back. “But I’m so ashamed, Ferre. I’m an adult. I’ve been dealing with this for years. I should know how to handle it.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone, Courf. I’m here for you.”

“I know! And you were there for me six years ago, and you’re always going to be here for me . . . and I’m never here for you. I always let you down.”

“You have never let me down once in my entire life.” Combeferre snuggled closer, pulling Courfeyrac towards him. “I love you, and it is my honor to be here for you. I just need you to be honest with from now on, alright?”

“Yes, Ferre. I will be.” Courfeyrac snuggled into Ferre, and fell asleep in the other man’s arms.

~~~

When the doorbell rang, Combeferre slipped his arms out from around Courfeyrac and padded quietly to the front door to admit Doctor Jehan Prouvaire. Jehan was dressed in their usual work clothes - a floral cacophony that would make Montparnasse blush - and held a bundle of wildflowers.

“Oh, Combeferre! I just saw the most magnificent bird!” Jehan said by way of greeting, as Ferre opened the door for them. “These are for Courfeyrac. I thought he might like them.”

Combeferre accepted the flowers and stepped aside to let Jehan in. “Thank you for coming Jehan. I’m so worried about him . . .”

Jehan hooked their arm through Combeferre’s and led him into the living room. “Combeferre, Courfeyrac is first and foremost my patient, but he is also one of my closests friends. There is nothing I would not do for him.” Jehan released Combeferre’s arm and gently pushed him into one of the armchairs, then settled into the once facing it. “I am sorry about what happened with the medication. He told me it was making him sleepy, so I prescribed a new kind. I had no idea it would keep him awake-”

“It’s not your fault, Jehan. He should have told me. Or he should have just stayed on what he was taking. He said that he just wanted to try the new stuff in case it worked better? I’m not sure that's the whole truth.”

Jehan frowned and made notes on the pad that they had produced from the bag that they brought with them. “Did he say he had any new stress in his life? The medication he was on might not have been at a high enough dosage anymore, and he translated that as just not working. Then his depression comes back and he doesn’t think to voice his concerns, just . . . tries to take care of it himself.”

“He always has. I suppose that is a possibility. Do you want to talk to him?” Combeferre stood, placing the flowers into a vase on the coffee table.

“Yes, I do believe that that would be good. Where is he?”

“He was asleep when you arrived-”

“I’m here.” Courfeyrac had entered the room quietly, having awoken when Ferre went to let Jehan in. He had changed, and now wore sweatpants and a t-shirt - no strings. “I’ve packed.” He said sadly.

Combeferre went to embrace him. “You aren’t going anywhere Courfeyrac. Not today at least. Jehan isn’t here to get you admitted again. They’re just going to fix your meds, and maybe talk to you a little.” Courfeyrac started to cry, embracing the man he loved.

“You aren’t going to send me away?”

“No, of course not Courf. That was only a last resort last time - we caught this early. You can stay right here.”  Combeferre guided him over to the loveseat, and sat, pulling Courf with him.

Jehan smiled. “Hello Courfeyrac. Do you want to tell me about what happened?” Courfeyrac nodded, and hesitantly began to tell the doctor what exactly had happened.


	3. Truth so Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I literally said I would update every day and then vanished. I'm sorry. College is a lot sometimes, and that on top of family drama left me with zero time. I'm sorry! Don't worry, I am going to keep updating! Thank you all for reading <3  
> Also, I kinda went off the deep end with some of the doctor-y stuff in this chapter. I do not have a medical license and I actually just made some of this up. Sorry.

When Courfeyrac ran out of things to say, Jehan smiled at him and clicked his pen a few times while they gathered their thoughts. “Courfeyrac.” He said at last, gently. “Do you want to go back to your old medicine?” 

“It wasn’t working. I could feel myself slipping.” 

“Why didn’t you just tell me that? It is my job, after all. I want to help.” 

Courfeyrac shrugged. “I guess . . . I dunno. I didn’t want anyone to worry . . . and I didn’t want Ferre to send me away.” 

Combeferre pulled Courfeyrac even closer than he already was. “I don’t ever want to send you away again, Courf. I just want you to be healthy. You know that.” He pressed a kiss to Courf’s temple. 

“When the meds don’t work . . . I sometimes forget that.” Courfeyrac looked down sadly. 

“We’ll get you onto the right meds, alright Courfeyrac?” Jehan said, digging around in their bad. “When Joly comes, I’ll have him draw blood. There’s a few I have in mind, but I want to make sure you won’t have a reaction.” 

“What will he take until the lab results come back?” Combeferre asked, knowing Courf would object to both the old and new medicines that he had been taking. 

“And there, my dear Ferre, you have hit the nail in the head. I can have the lab results by Monday morning. It’s Thursday now, isn’t it? Yes . . . ?” they consulted their watch. “Yes. Someone will need to stay with him until we are sure the new medication has the proper effect.”   

Combeferre nodded, and Courfeyrac sighed. “I don’t want to be a burden, Jehan.” 

“I know, Courfeyrac. I know. But this is the best way, I promise.” 

Combeferre kissed Courf’s head again. “You aren’t a burden, you are the love of my life.” He took his phone out of his pocket and sent off a quicky flurry of texts. Both Courfeyrac and Jehan’s phones buzzed - Ferre had texted the group chat, asking for people to stay with Courf. 

Courfeyrac turned pleading eyes on Combeferre, “No . . . Ferre . . .” 

“Shh, Courf, it’s alright to ask for help sometimes. If they can’t or don’t want to, they won’t say yes.” But their friends did want to, and soon Courfeyrac had someone to stay with him until Tuesday evening, when Jehan said they would know about the side effects. 

Combeferre was copying down the schedule and magneting it to the fridge when the doorbell rang again - promptly as six o’clock. 

Courfeyrac stood up from the couch where he had been idly talking with Jehan and shuffled to the door to let Doctor Joly in. 

Joly was leaning on his cane with one hand and clutching his medical bag with the other. “Good evening, Courfeyrac. It’s nice to see you on your feet. May I come in?” Courfeyrac offered a tiny half smile and nodded. Joly made his way over to Ferre to say hello, and then over to Jehan to consult with them. Combeferre disappeared into the kitchen for a minute and then joined Jehan and Joly to converse. 

Courfeyrac didn’t really feel like talking anymore. He had told Jehan everything, and now he just wanted to be alone. He made his way down the hall into the spare bedroom, where he had been hiding his razors. The box was still there - either Ferre had yet to look for it, or he hadn’t had time to properly dispose of it. Courfeyrac sat down on the bed and absently started off into space, fighting the urge to put the blade to his skin as much as he could, knowing the others would be disappointed. He heard Combeferre calling him from the living room and slipped the box back into its hiding place, hoping he would never need to get it out again. 


	4. Defiance and Lavender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here is chapter four! I really do hope you like it! This chapter does contain more medical stuff that I just made up, so please take anything that any of the doctors say with like, a whole shaker of salt. I am in no way shape or form a medical professional (I'm a film student) and I did not do as much research for this project as I would usually do. I really appreciate it when you guys leave comments/kudos - it lets me know that you like what I'm doing, so I guess that means I should keep doing it, right?

Even though Combeferre had examined, cleaned, and wrapped Courfeyrac’s forearm, he insisted that Joly do a full physical in addition to whatever checks Jehan ordered. 

As Courfeyrac shuffled into the kitchen, he was surprised to find that Combeferre had cleared off the center island and covered it in a sheet. Joly had commandeered one of the other counters for his instruments, and Jehan leaned against a wall, making notes in their notebook. 

When Joly saw Courfeyrac, he came over to him and placed his hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder. “I’m just going to do an exam to make sure you’re alright physically, and then do the tests Jehan ordered, alright?” 

Courfeyrac nodded numbly. He had never liked doctors (odd, since he had married one) and he knew Joly was going to draw blood, so he was nervous. Joly offered a comforting smile. 

“Here, put this on.” It was the gown that Musichetta had made for Courfeyrac six years ago - soft, colorful, and always smelling of lavender. Chetta had made a whole set - one for each of their friends that Joly took care of. 

Courfeyrac disrobed - not particularly caring if the other three men saw - and slipped into the gown. Joly motioned to the table. “Can you have a seat for me, Courf?” 

Courfeyrac obliged and crawled up onto the island. 

It was a strange experience, sitting in his kitchen while Joly examined him. The other man’s touch was as gentle as always, and Joly was careful to obtain Courfeyrac’s consent before each step. When Joly was satisfied that there was nothing wrong with Courf besides the cuts (the set on his arm that Ferre hand found, a few on his inner thigh from the first day, and the set on the upper part of his other forearm) he went to fetch the disposable kit that he would be using to take a blood sample. 

Courfeyrac went very pale, and Combeferre came to stand next to him, taking Courfeyrac’s left hand and speaking in soft, soothing tones. 

While Joly swabbed the inside of Courf’s right elbow with antiseptic, Combeferre distracted Courfeyrac by talking about their wedding. Courfeyrac lost himself in Combeferre’s eyes, and was only brought back by the sharp bite of the needle in his arm. He flinched, and Combeferre brought his free hand up to rub Courf’s back while Joly took the blood. When Joly was finished, Courfeyrac curled into Combeferre’s arms. 

“Alright, I’m done.” Joly announced as he began to clean up. Jehan came away from the wall and the four friends found themselves in a circle. “He’s fine, aside from the cuts, and none of them are deep. Courfeyrac, were your blades rusty?” 

“No.” 

“Alright. Can I have your blades?” 

“. . . No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t want to hear the voices in my head, Joly. The blades keep them away.” 

“Courfeyrac, you know the voices aren’t real.” Jehan said kindly. And when we get you medicated again, they really will go away. I promise.” 

“But what about until then?” Courfeyrac asked, his eyes big. “I don’t want to use them, but what if it gets to bad? What if-”

Combeferre wrapped his arms around his lover. “They won’t get to bad, Courf. We’re all going to make sure they don’t get to bad. You’re going to be alright.” 

“Can I have them, please? So I can put them where no one will get hurt.” Joly asked again.

“I’ll get get them.” Courfeyrac said with a sigh. He trudged back into the guest bedroom, removing one blade from the box and slipping it under a book. He shut the box and returned to the kitchen, holding out the box to Joly. “Here.” 

“Thank you. Is this all of them?” 

“No.” 

“Courfeyrac-” Jehan protested. 

“Combeferre took the one I was . . . using earlier. I don’t know what he did with it.” 

Combeferre nodded, “I put it in the sharps box in the bathroom. Don’t worry.” 

The tension that had appeared in the room tangibly lessened, and Courfeyrac said a silent thank you that they had believed him. 

“Thank you for being so helpful today, Courfeyrac.” Jehan said as they put their things into their bag. “You know you can call me anytime. I’m always here for you, I promise.” Courfeyrac nodded, tired. 

“Thank you Jehan, thank you Joly.” He said politely, changing back into his clothes. “I’m sorry-”

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Courfeyrac.” Combeferre said, and the others nodded their agreement. 

The other two doctors left shortly, leaving Courfeyrac and Combeferre standing together in the entryway, Ferre’s arm around Courf. 

“I love you, okay? Never forget that.” Combeferre said, pressing a kiss to Courf’s head. 

“I love you too.”  


	5. A Gentle Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre helps sooth Courf's fears and anxieties that evening before they go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As one of my readers was kind enough to point out, Jehan cannot be Courf's doctor because they are friends and Courf is thus a special interest. I know this, and I ignored it on purpose for the sake of the plot. But! In real life, that would never happen. I'm terribly, terribly sorry for the long long break. Hopefully I can finish thus up now that school is out for the summer!

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Combeferre made dinner (his mother’s pulled pork, and cookies), and then they played a board game (Scrabble, Courfeyrac’s choice. Combeferre let him win), and when they had grown tired of that, Combeferre carded his fingers into Courf’s hair and kissed light little kisses all over his face (Courfeyrac did not object). Overall, it was a good evening, the stress of the day seemingly behind them. 

Except Combeferre had work the next day, so around 10pm he shuffled Courf into the bathroom and made him get ready for bed with him. Courfeyrac protested. He wasn’t tired because he had napped. 

“Ferrrrrrre. I can’t we play some more scrabble?” 

“I have work tomorrow, Courf.” 

“You could take off.” 

“With what excuse?” 

“Me?”

“Courfeyrac, I love you. You know that. But I have three surgeries tomorrow and those people are counting on me.”

“I’m counting on you too.”

“Yes, I know. Which is why I arranged to drop you at R’s studio on my way to work- ah! No complaining. You’re off your meds so that means you don’t get to drive. Sorry.” 

Courfeyrac was sulking anyways. “I love to drive.” 

“And I love you in one piece. Those voices in your head aren’t very nice sometimes.” 

“I know. I’m sor-”

“No more apologies. Get ready for bed. I’ve a sleeping pill for you to take if you’re really not tired.” Combeferre rustled around in the cupboard. “And if you still can’t sleep, you’re to wake me, do you understand?” 

“Yes, Ferre.” Courfeyrac took the pill Ferre had finally found (Combeferre was a neat person, but it had been Courfeyrac’s turn to clean the bathroom and all of the bottles of pills had fallen out) and swallowed it obediently. Combeferre pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“Thank you. Now, brush your teeth and go to bed!” 

Courfeyrac shook his head and did as he was told - ten minutes later he was relishing the feeling of Ferre tucking him in and the sliding into bed next to him. He was asleep just a few minutes later, Ferre’s gentle “Goodnight” lost to him. 


	6. Art Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac spends the day with Grantaire - until Courfeyrac starts to listen to the voices again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a really long time to write? I don't know why? I guess I was having a hard time with writing R? I'm not sure. Nothing is beta-ed so if you see an error, let me know! Comments and Kudos make my day :D

Combeferre was right. The voices in Courfeyrac’s head were not nice. They taunted and teased and in general left him miserable. He didn’t want to get up the next day. He wanted to bury his head under the blankets and stay there - but Combeferre had to go to work, so Courfeyrac had to go somewhere besides the house. 

Combeferre drove them into the heart of Paris, where Grantaire’s studio resided. He walked his husband up to the door, and waited with him. Once Courfeyrac was safely with Grantaire, Combeferre kissed his husband goodbye and reluctantly drove away. 

“So, Courf. I saw Joly last night, he filled me in on the details. I just, I want you to know you’re not alone.” As Grantaire led Courfeyrac through the studio to two comfortable, if worn, chairs, He rolled up his sleeve. “You aren’t the only one who has to deal with shit like this, and if you need to talk, I’m here.” 

Courfeyrac was staring at the scars that ran up R’s arm. There were more than Courfeyrac had - and a lot of them looked deep. 

“Yeah, I’ve got them too.” Grantaire said softly. “I understand.” 

“Are there voices in your head too, R?” Courfeyrac asked softly. 

“Only my own. I’m not quite like you, but I get it, I do. You aren’t alone in this. You aren’t even the only one who still struggles. I put my blades down a long time ago, but sometimes Enj has to sit me down and remind me why I did that. It’s not easy, I wish I could say it was, but it is worth it, I promise.” 

“I know. I had stopped for so long . . .”

“And you will stop again. Courf, no one thinks less of you for this. We’re your friends.” 

Courfeyrac nodded slowly, a hesitant smile on his lips. Grantaire smiled back. 

“I’ve got to get to work, but I can work in here, Do you want to paint to? Or draw? I have stuff.” 

“I brought a book that Marius has been bugging me to read for months.” Courfeyrac said with a guilty shrug. “I’ve just been so busy with work, and everything else, I haven’t had time.” 

Grantaire laughed. “Alright, just let me know if you change your mind. Enj is bringing lunch when he can get away from his poor PR team for a moment, you know how it is with elections coming up, and Enj is well, being Enj, and he wouldn’t let the lobbyists sway him, so while the people love him, he isn’t exactly popular with his fellow politicians.” 

“His poor PR team.” Courfeyrac echoed, shaking his head. “I’ll be alright R, the voices were loud on the way here, but they’ve quieted down.” 

“Okay Courf, let me know if you need anything - anything really, okay? Chocolate? A hug? For me to go drag Combeferre’s ass out of surgery and make him take care of you?” Grantaire held Courfeyrac’s gaze, and the younger man nodded. 

“I will R, I promise.” 

“Good man. Alright, I’ll be just over here if you need me.” Grantaire gave Courf one more once over and then went to his easel to work. 

It was nice, peaceful even, sitting in the worn but still very comfy armchair while R worked. He had thought it would be a day of missing Combeferre’s soft touches and gentle reminders that he wasn’t alone, but for once the voices in his head shut up all on their own. 

They sat together in companionable silence for a few hours, Courfeyrac thumbing through his book and Grantaire working on whatever masterpiece he was creating. Then the door opened and Enjolras entered, the red of his coat standing out against the pale of his skin. 

Grantaire was at his side in an instant. “Enjolras? You look wrecked. Come sit down.” 

“Hello to you too, R, Courf.” Enjolras replied as Grantaire dragged him to the settee that was across from the armchair Courf was resting in. When Enjolras was sitting, R darted into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, which he shoved into his boyfriend’s hands. 

“Drink.” Grantaire commanded. “When was the last time you ate? Did you sit down at all this morning? Did anybody threaten you again? Are-” 

Enjolras had finished half the glass of water and then cut R off in the middle of his barrage of questions. “I ate breakfast before I left this morning, I sat down for 20 minutes while we were stuck in traffic on the way to a press conference, and nobody threatened me today because I’ve been to busy to see anyone. And I brought lunch.” Enjolras said it with such firmness that Grantaire thought it best not to ask any more questions. “How are you Courf?” 

Courfeyrac smiled slightly. “I’m alright. I don’t know what it is, but the voices have mostly gone for now.” 

Enjolras nodded thoughtfully. “Well that would happen in college sometimes too. Hungry?” The question was posed casually, because once upon a time Courfeyrac hadn’t taken razors to his skin - instead, he had starved himself. Enjolras had been anorexic in college, but it was Courfeyrac who suffered the most because he hid it so well.

“Yeah, actually.” Courfeyrac replied.

“Wonderful.” Enjolras began pulling the sandwiches, fruit cups, and cookies from the bag in his hand. Usually when he slipped out during a lunch break, he got the food himself, but today had been insane, and he’d had to send an aid - so there were extra cookies, and the food seemed prepared with extra care. As much as Enjolras protested it, his staff wasn’t afraid to use his name to get him nicer things - after all, he treated them wonderfully. 

When everyone had eaten their fill (Courfeyrac had even been convinced to have two cookies) Enjolras stretched and threw a glance at the clock. “I should go.” 

“It’s only been a half hour, Enj.” Grantaire protested. “You get a lunch hour, goodness knows when you’ll be able to come home tonight.” 

“Alright, alright, but we talk about what Courf want’s to talk about.” 

“That’s acceptable.” Grantaire said with a nod. “Courf?” 

“I . . . umm . . .” Courfeyrac had zoned out, his mind elsewhere. “Sorry what were we talking about?” 

Grantaire swore under his breath and Enjolras was already reaching for his phone. 

“I’m fine!” Courfeyrac protested far too quickly. Grantaire stood.

“I’m getting you some water, ok Courf? To help you clear your head.” 

“Alright.” Courfeyrac said, still seeming a little out of it. Grantaire returned a moment later and passed him the glass, which Courfeyrac downed. A few minutes later, his eyelids were falling shut. 

Grantaire sighed when Courfeyrac was fully unconscious. 

“You drugged him?” Enjolras asked, his question accompanied by an arched eyebrow. 

“Yeah. I didn’t want it to get worse, and you’re here, so chasing him down if he ran isn’t an option, because if people saw you bolting through the streets, your PR team would have your head.” 

“Courfeyrac is more important that reelection.” 

“Of course he is, Enjolras, but him sleeping isn’t exactly the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

“I guess you’re right.” Enjolras sighed softly. “You should call Ferre.” 

“He’s in a surgery right now. And Joly’s booked up at the clinic. Courf will sleep until Ferre gets here, anyways.”

“How did we miss this, R?” 

“I don’t know, Enjolras. I don’t know.” 


	7. While You Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Combeferre talk about the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, freaky short weird chapter, but I didn't want to put it in with chapter six and I want chapter eight to be it's own thing, so here we are!

Grantaire was right. Courfeyrac did sleep until Combeferre got there - in fact, he was still asleep when Combeferre got there, and so Combeferre had carried him to the car, Courfeyrac stirring long enough to wrap an arm around his husband’s neck. 

“Thanks for keeping an eye on him, R.” Combeferre said as he fastened Courfeyrac’s seatbelt and shut the passenger side door. 

“My pleasure, Ferre. He read, he ate . . . in fact he was fine until he ate, and then he kinda zoned out. He didn’t like, panic, or anything, but I’ve seen that look in the mirror often enough to know that something was up.” Grantaire shrugged, rubbing at a splotch of paint that had dried on his hand. 

“Hmm, that  _ is  _ odd. I’ve never known food to trigger him before. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I’ll see if he’s up to talking about it when he wakes.” Combeferre smiled fondly at the man still sleeping in the car. “Exactly how much of that stuff did you give him, R?” 

“The recommended dose on the bottle. Same as college.” 

“He’s probably just exhausted.” Combeferre pulled R into a quick hug. “Take care of yourself. I’ve got to get him home.” 

“Understandable.” Grantaire smiled and returned the hug before stepping up onto the stairs that led to his studio’s door. “Have a nice evening. Oh, Enjolras wanted you to call his office later if you have time - something about a new bill that he wanted to run by you, if you have time, of course. Courfeyrac is more important.” 

“I’ll call after I get Courf into a proper bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if he slept through the night.” Combeferre gave a friendly wave and smile, and then went around the car to get in on the driver’s side. “Bye R.” He slipped the keys into the ignition and took Courfeyrac home. 


End file.
